


The Patron Saint of Switchblade Fights

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Frank Iero is heir to an infamous New Jersey mafia.Gerard Way... had no fucking clue mafias still existed.I have a lot of respect for these guys and their families, and I hope you do too. This story is entirely meant to be fictional, and the characters are more or less just based off real people. If you're reading this, stop bugging them about mcr on social media. Frank will roast you to death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

     New Jersey has a very high population of Italian Americans, but Italian mafias primarily remain in north and central Jersey. Cities like Newark, North Arlington, Jersey City, and of course, Belleville all have mafias set up by families and kept in business for years. The Iero dynasty especially, has worked to keep its name and reputation, since before WWII, when the mafia was recruited by the American government to help protect her navy.

     The crown is always passed to the first born son, in order to keep the kingdom in the Iero name, and its blood. The kingdom hailed from Belleville, and there it stayed. As the dynasty grew, as did its wealth and skill. The family was not unfamiliar with bloodshed, drugs, guns, or anything of the like. In fact, heirs were taught at a young age how to not only shoot, but physically fight as well–to kill.

     Frank Iero, heir to the throne of Belleville's Italian mafia, had received this training, and was proving himself well fit to control the drug and money trafficking of their family business. 

 

 


	2. 1. Ciao

**1\. Ciao!**

Gerard Way was often caught up in his woolgathering, which was his current state as he walked down the street to the small café where he works. It was a Saturday, so Gerard didn't have any classes at the local college where he went for art, while he still lived at home with his mom and brother. So, on his way, he was daydreaming of Captain America, because Chris Evans is really fucking hot, of course. Gerard had taken note of the dismal looking clouds above his head, and the puddles left over on the streets and sidewalks from last night's storm. The clouds cast a gray overtone over the Belleville scenery, but Gerard didn't mind. In fact, he preferred this weather over sunshine, due to his lack of affection for any bright colors that didn't match his aesthetic, which was very important.

     His daydream though, was interrupted and he was abruptly thrown back into reality by the sound of yelling from an alley he was approaching on his journey. Ever curious, Gerard slowly crept along the face of an office building and peered into the alleyway next to it. There, he saw a sight that almost made him scream, but he swallowed his fear, and watched the scene before him play out. 

     "Where's my fucking money, Jerry?!" A man shouted. He was short, and he leaned upwards to press his forearm against the windpipe of another man, who had his back to the wall and fear in his eyes.

     Gerard noticed that the man who seemed to be the attacker in this situation wore all black, from his ratty converse, to his jeans, to his leather jacket that covered a shirt with the name of a band he couldn't quite read. The guy was fairly attractive, as Gerard saw, annoyed at himself for paying attention to that fact, of all things. There were piercings in his lip and nose, and tattoos on his hands and neck showing where his clothes didn't cover. They made him look cool, like the aesthetic Gerard would want to live up to. If only he wasn't so afraid of needles. But, the guy also looked kind of young, and extremely menacing.

     "I d-don't have it yet, I just n-need a few more–" The second man stuttered, but his words were replaced with gagging as the shorter of the two put pressure on his neck. 

     "That's what you said five days ago. Remember what I warned you about?" He asked, jaw set and teeth clenched. Gerard gasped as he saw him reach into his pocket and produce a knife, flicking it open. 

     That's when the other man started screaming. Gerard saw the guy with the knife grab the other's hand, and with a simple, almost delicate, twist of the wrist, he sliced off the man's ring finger. Gerard flinched, as it dropped to the ground near a puddle at their feet, blood spewing from the man's hand, and the screaming grew louder. The onlooker wanted more than anything to turn away and run as fast as he could from the gruesome sight, but was paralyzed in fear, watching the severed finger on the ground, blood spilling everywhere.

     "You have until Saturday to get the money, or I'll choose another to chop off, capisci?"

     The man, holding his hand to his shirt in an effort to stop the bleeding, nodded quickly. 

     "Good," the short one confirmed, stepping away, knife still drawn. The other guy, still clutching his injured hand, sprinted away quickly, and Gerard wished he could as well, but his feet stayed where they were.      

     "Arrivederci!" The other man called in a singsong voice while walking away from the scene. Straight (lol) in Gerard's direction. Gerard ducked behind the wall he was leaning against, sliding down it and trying to make himself smaller, hoping that that crazy guy with the knife wouldn't notice him.

     At this point, Gerard was hyperventilating as a panic attack hit him. He was used to them, but this was different. The magnitude of what he had just witnessed was insane. He buried his head in the fabric of his sleeves, fighting tears and gasping for air. Gerard's problem was that his mind was a symphony of sorts, rising and falling, but always playing. His thoughts bombarded him endlessly, and the orchestra only sounded beautiful at some times. It was mostly haunting and loud, but when his anxiety spiked, Gerard's mind betrayed him, and the symphony turned quickly to ugly cacophony. Gerard's thoughts always clashed around with each other, but in these moments, they were an accident on the turnpike in winter, where one flips over and those after it come crashing into it and each other. Even if he tried his hardest to stop them, he had no control of them as they slip across the icy road. The only way to calm Gerard down then would be to be touched by someone else's hands to warm and melt the frozen turnpike so his thoughts could slow to a stop and his breathing could slow.

     After a moment of squeezing his eyes shut, Gerard froze, feeling a hand on his arm. Gerard raised his head to see the man from the alley, and his breathing quickened impossibly further. The guy looked different now, without the knife or threats, and in the weak sunlight instead of the shaded alley. He also no longer had blood on his hands or face, which Gerard was thankful of. He had seen enough blood. Gerard allowed the hand to calm him, ignoring the deeds of the person attached.

     When Gerard finally regained his composure enough to look at him, the man hesitated, then spoke.

      "Are you alright?" Gerard couldn't help but stare, frozen in his place. how could a man, who'd just fucking sliced off another guy's finger without flinching, look so... Kind? Gerard caught himself lost in thought again.     

     "Hey pal," the guy said, snapping in Gerard's face to get his attention. 

Gerard blinked, and steadied his breathing as much as he could manage.

     "Oh, uh, yeah. Y-Yeah, I'm good, fuckin great." The man chuckled at this, then stood, offering his hand to Gerard to help him up. Gerard opted to take it in fear of the man and what he was capable of. When they were both standing, there was an awkward silence, as the short guy looked Gerard up and down, biting his lip, as the taller man just shook in place. 

     Then, Gerard was suddenly pinned against the wall that he had just been sitting against, with both hands above his head, held by the man. Wincing, Gerard shut his eyes and tried to turn his head away. By the way his day was going, he was surprised that he hadn't had at least four heart attacks by then. The grip on his wrists was painful and tight, and Gerard really didn't want to be murdered at that very moment.

     "So, tesoro, how much of that did you see?" The man purred, with his face as close to Gerard's as possible without being on his tip toes.

     "N-none! Nothing!" Gerard choked out as he felt tears rushing to his eyes once again.

     "Aw, come on, don't lie to me, hm? I bet ya saw the whole thing. But you're not gonna tell anybody, right? It'd be a real shame, with that pretty face of yours," he grinned like a cat. Gerard nodded vigorously, unable to speak, and trying not to start sobbing.      

     "Good," he confirmed, releasing Gerard's wrists. Gerard, still shaking, brought his hands to his eyes, covered by the black sleeves of his sweater, to wipe away the salt water threatening to spill onto his cheeks.

     "Then you have no reason to be afraid of me! Besides, that guy had it coming. Stugatz owed me money for shit he was hiding from his wife and kids, plus the scumbag doesn't need that finger to work! He's a website designer, for fuck's sake." He smirked from the side of his mouth, pausing before holding out a hand for Gerard to shake, "I'm Frank Iero, and you are...?"

Gerard took it hesitantly, warily noticing a few heavy looking rings, as well as the same black coat of nail polish that Gerard had applied just the night before with his brother, Mikey. 

"Gay. Wait, no! I mean, Werard! No, Geray! Uhm, shit," Gerard took a deep breath, blushing, and looked down to take a moment to recover from being flustered. Gerard cursed his ineptness for never letting him talk to anyone without sounding like a complete idiot. When he looked up, Frank was watching him with his eyebrows raised, still in handshake position with Gerard, "G-Gerard. Gerard Way," he finally made out, as calmly as possible. 

     Frank slipped his hand away, smirking at Gerard, and says, "Well, Gerard, where were you headed? I'll walk with you."

     Gerard couldn't help but be taken aback by his behavior. How could he go from hurting someone, to acting so caring, to threatening Gerard, and then to being so mannerly, even offering to walk him to where he was going? He knew Frank was Italian, because he looked it, and kept speaking in Italian. Gerard himself had half of the same heritage, and so he knew some of the aspects of the culture, including courtesy, but damn, this was unlike anything he'd ever seen. But that may have been because he rarely spoke to new people, due to his anxiety and basic shyness.

     "The, uh, Trackside Coffee Shop. I work there," Gerard mumbled, looking away. 

     "Oh! My cousin goes there, says they got real good coffee! Let's go!" Frank grinned to himself at the thought of a good cup of coffee, and started to head off down the street, in the direction of the café. He walked a few paces, then turned to ask Gerard something, stopping abruptly when he saw that the man was still standing in the same spot, staring at Frank. "Now, dai, Gerard, I told you, you have nothing to be afraid of, long as you don't snitch!" Frank tried to reassure him, gesturing with his tattooed hands the whole time,  "Dai, you don't want to be late to work, do you?" 

Gerard's eyebrows knit together as he looks at the small, scary man. "A-are you saying die?" Gerard gulped, hoping that he could suppress another anxiety attack long enough to run away, if need be. Unfortunately, Gerard knew he couldn't run the seven blocks it would take to get to his house for his life, and he certainly couldn't outrun Frank.

     The short man's serious expression fell immediately, replaced with laughter as he doubled over and held his gut. This went on for a moment, and Gerard wasn't sure if the laughter should worry him more, or if it should somehow relieve him. The guy sure had potential to be a fucking psychopath. Either way, the nervous feeling in his belly remained, as did his anxiety. 

     When Frank had finally calmed down, he stood and wiped the corner of his eyes, taking a breath before speaking again, "No, no, é italiano, it means 'come on'." 

     "Oh. O-okay then, I guess," Gerard says, sighing with relief. He suddenly wished that his mother had made himself and Mikey learn Italian, as his limited knowledge of the language was really not helping him at the moment. He started walking forward, acknowledging the fact that he was most definitely late, and his boss was probably going to yell at him. Frank strode along side of Gerard, making mostly one-sided small talk. 

     "So, how long've you worked at the coffee shop?" Frank inquired, looking up at Gerard, who had his shoulders curled in, making himself smaller.

     "Uhm... Almost a year," he replied, tempted to ask Frank how long he'd been... hurting people, but immediately decided against it, due to his not wanting to die. At that moment, at least.

     They continued conversing as they went along, and Gerard told his new "pal" about the art classes he was taking, and that he hoped to draw for comics, or maybe be an art teacher if the former wasn't so easy to come by. He learned that Frank had a big family, with seven of his own siblings, all younger, and Gerard told him in turn about his baby brother Mikey. As they arrived at the coffee shop, Gerard realized that talking to Frank had been becoming increasingly easier, and his stuttering and nervousness came to a minimum, the event he'd witnessed just over ten minutes before at the back of his mind. 

     He went straight into the back room, glancing at his coworker, a blond girl who was a few years younger than him, in high school. He wondered briefly why she wasn't there now, but he brushed it off, refocusing on the door he was walking through to inevitably be chewed out by his boss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment whether you'd like to see more or not, because I'm not sure if I'd want to keep going with this.


	3. Festa!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> math. star wars. party. drugs.

     Gerard walked out of the coffee shop at 2:00 PM, as stressed as ever. Of course his boss had yelled at him, but the old lady had always had a soft spot for Gerard, from knowing his mother. When he told her that he'd overslept (which had actually happened before on a few occasions), she had just sighed and threw Gerard's apron at him. He, in return, worked extra hard to put his strange morning out of his head and to do as much as possible at work, though his shaking hands betrayed him and threatened to make him drop mugs and plates (which was also a semi-regular occurrence). Once, after staring out the window for two minutes straight, Gerard's coworker had to slap him on the arm and tell him to get his head in the game. 

     Now, he was even more stressed, as he was heading towards school for his only Monday class– the dreaded and evil math. Because he had taken the option of not taking a math class his senior year of high school, Gerard had been forced to take one in college. Of course though, he waited until his mom made him take the course his sophomore year, knowing that he would have waited until the very last chance to take it. And Gerard felt the world hated him, because his math class was made up, almost entirely, of freshmen, and his teacher, Mr. Cole, was an annoying piece of shit who should _not_ be teaching. The man told stories in class and gave lectures about how things were different in the real world, and how they would need to mature and handle things on their own, but he never actually taught them math. Gerard was especially anxious today, because he knew that he had a test to take, but he had forgotten to study, and also could not remember what the fuck it was on. His grade was definitely not in the shape to be able to handle a failed test at the moment.

     As he speed walked, hoping to get to class early enough to cram at least a little, Gerard multitasked, lighting a cigarette to calm him down a bit. Fuck, he felt like chain smoking the entire pack. He pulled out his phone, exhaling smoke into the already gray sky. Turning the device on, Gerard found a new message there, but he frowned, seeing a strange contact name. He unlocked the phone, and the contact name read "frnk," which made Gerard's eyes widen at the memory of the small and scary man from earlier. He clicked on the contact photo, a selfie of Frank, from what was obviously the coffee shop's break room, where Gerard left his phone when he was working. _How the hell did he get into the break room without anyone noticing?_ Gerard clicked off the picture, pausing to check for cars before crossing a busy street before reading the message.

      _Gerard, I had a fun time this morning. We should do it again sometime._

     Gerard frowned, again perplexed by Frank's antics, but locked his phone and put it back in his pocket as he approached the college.

* * *

 

      _F_ _uck fuck fuck I just fucking failed that shit, Mom's gonna have my head on a spike!_ Gerard thought, trudging home. He felt so tired that he could collapse, but he figured he was probably more emotionally fatigued than anything else. He was also kind of confused, because the freshman boy who sat next to him had caught him outside of the classroom to ask if Gerard wanted to go to a party that he was having that night. When questioned about a party on a random Monday night, the boy, Alex, had said that it was the only night his folks were going to be out of town. The interaction left Gerard slightly disoriented, because Alex hadn't spoken much to Gerard throughout the first month of school, even though he seemed like a nice kid, but Gerard just smiled and told him that he'd stop by if he got a chance. Gerard knew that Alex Grippo was a music major like a few of his friends, but did not know much else about him.

     As he walked, he lit another cigarette, and let his mind wander. While still paying attention to his surroundings, Gerard was completely elsewhere. He was peering into that alley again. He was on the ground struggling with a panic attack again. He was walking to work with Frank again. He replayed the memories from earlier, but he still couldn't figure it out– _was Frank a good guy or a bad guy?_ Gerard couldn't tell if he was eager to find out more about him, or if he wanted to forget Frank altogether and pretend they had never met. 

     But Gerard arrived at his family's apartment before he could ponder anymore. He unlocked the door and practically fell inside. Surveying the layout of their home, with the living room on the right, the stairs to the bedrooms and bathroom across from the front door, and the kitchen on the left, he spotted his mother behind the kitchen table. She was wearing an apron, and had her hair tied back, and she was stirring a big pot of what was probably stew. 

     "Hey honey, how was school?" She called from where she stood at the stove, not having to turn around to know it was Gerard coming in. 

     He made his way over to her, replying with a "fine," as he kissed her cheek.

     She grinned in response, tussling his hair and saying, "The boys are all here and they're all up in your room already."

     "Shit," Gerard muttered. He had forgotten that Mikey's and his friends were coming over to hang out with them today. They were having a Star Wars marathon, but why they scheduled it for a Monday he couldn't remember at all. "Okay," he sighed, "thanks, I'll go see them then."

     "Tell them dinner's gonna be ready soon, and that they're going to have to come out of their cave to eat, Gerard." 

     "Okay Mom, I will," Gerard chuckled out.

     Gerard trekked up the stairs and opened the door to his and Mikey's shared room to see Mikey and their friends spread around the room with A New Hope playing on the TV. Mikey and Ray were both laying on Mikey's bed on their stomachs, with their heads by the foot of the bed. Mark and Jon were both resting on the bean bag chairs in the center of the room between the two beds opposite each other. And then there was Bob, lounging on Gerard's bed, with his head hanging off the end. They all waved and made noises that sounded more like grunts than hellos when Gerard walked in, and Gerard had to smirk at the nerds with their eyes glued to the screen. He threw his bag by his closet and kicked off his shoes, pushing Bob over so he could lay, like Ray and Mikey, on his own bed, earning another grunt from the big guy. The group was silent for the most part, but they weren't always like that. Usually they laughed and joked with each other, but that sometimes had to be credited to the weed that Mark, Jon, and Bob somehow procured so easily. Neither Mikey nor Gerard really had separate friends.

      From the time that they were very young, they hadn't really needed other friends besides each other. Gerard could recall the day Mikey was born, and several memories from when they were young, like helping their mom by feeding Mikey while she cooked dinner or cleaned. When Gerard had started school, he had made friends, albeit very slowly and awkwardly, and every time he would invite someone for a play date, he would include Mikey in their games and never minded sharing his friends. This continued when Mikey grew and began to make friends as well. He could do so much more naturally than his older brother, but his best friend would always be Gerard, so he wanted to include him as well. While their current friends weren't the ones they had originally started to make, they were all that Gerard and Mikey could want. Jon and Bob both went to high school with Mikey, where they were all seniors, and Ray and Mark were both in college, for music. Their little friend group was small, but the guys knew each other and had been friends for years, and Gerard wouldn't have had it any other way. 

     When Gerard and Mikey's mom had called them all to have dinner, the boys ate quickly, talking and joking loudly with each other. Having finished, the boys thanked her and went back to their movie marathon, except for Gerard, who stayed to help her clean up despite her urging him to go be with his friends. When he finally climbed the stairs again to join the others, Gerard grabbed a pillow to lay his head on as he watched through his bleary and tired eyes. He glanced over to see Mikey absentmindedly playing with a lock of Ray's thick hair before falling asleep.

* * *

 

     When Gerard woke, it was dark, and the TV had been shut off. He could make out the shapes of the other guys sleeping where they had been watching the movies, except it looked like Mark had rolled off the bean bag and was just laying on the floor. Gerard shook his head at the man, getting up to put a pillow under his head. He went to the closet and got a few extra blankets, because it had gotten colder with the night, and laid one over Jon, Mark, and Bob, and one over both Ray and Mikey together. He found his phone in the covers of his bed to check the time, which read 1:23 AM. Gerard groaned and slipped under the covers (the right way this time), turning away from Bob's legs and trying to fall asleep again. 

     Tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Gerard once again cursed his overactive imagination, which kept overplaying his day. For once, he wished he was just stressed over math or the project he had due by Friday for his Environmental Art class that he hadn't even started. At some point, Gerard gave in, fumbling for his phone again, and unlocking it. He found himself on Instagram, scrolling through his feed, liking pictures as he went. A photo posted by the freshman in his math class, Alex, caught his eye especially. It was a shot of the party, lit with bright neon lights, with Alex and a girl as the focus of the picture. Gerard could see a pool in the background and, despite the cold early-October night, people splashing around in it. Gerard, zooming in on the scene behind Alex and the girl, almost fucking choked. Because sitting at a table talking to a brunette girl, was Frank fucking Iero. Of all fucking people. _What the fuck?_

     An impulsive urge overtook Gerard, and suddenly he was wide awake and climbing out of bed. He opened his dresser and dug around for a nice T-shirt, and quickly changed into it and some ripped up black jeans, grabbing a jacket and his phone. Alex had told him the address of the party earlier, and Gerard had figured he wouldn't need it, but fortunately took it anyway to be polite. He crossed the room, careful not to step on anyone, and shook Mikey awake. 

     "Mikey? Wake up for a second please, man," Gerard whispered.

     "What the fuck?" Mikey uttered dazedly. He rubbed his eyes and glared at his big brother.

     "I'm... going out. Cover for me if mom wakes up?" He asked hopefully, relying on Mikey's goodwill and brotherly love.

     "Fine, but you owe me. Where are you even going this late?" Mikey was more awake now, and talking in a regular voice, and they both froze as Ray groaned and rolled over, dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

     "A party. It doesn't even matter, I'll be back soon," Gerard whispered back.

     "A party? You? I don't even believe that, man, you're like the most antisocial person I know," he replied, confused.

     "Whatever. Better late to start going to parties than never," Gerard said, and Mikey rolled his eyes and turned away from him, muttering something unintelligible.

     Gerard felt slightly offended at such utter disbelief, but understood where he was coming from. Gerard was well aware of the fact that he was antisocial, and also of the fact that Mikey was tired and pissy from being woken so late at night. Or early in the morning, rather. 

     Gerard typed the address into Google maps, and followed it on foot. He would have called a cab, but he didn't want to wait, and it wasn't _that_ far. He arrived about fifteen minutes later, and stopped in front of the house. There was a sign in the yard that read, "THIS WAY TO THE PARTY!!" It was painted on in sloppy handwriting, and had an arrow pointing to the right of the house. Gerard followed it to the gate to the backyard, which was held ajar by a plastic chair. He took a moment to compose himself, taking deep breaths. Gerard had been to parties before, but they were mostly birthday parties, or ones that he only went because Mikey and their friends had dragged him against his will. He was still mentally preparing himself when he heard a voice call his name.

     "Gerard Way! I didn't think you were gonna show!" Alex called from where he was clumsily clamoring out of the pool. He was obviously drunk, and most likely high too, from what Gerard could tell. Gerard smiled nervously at him and tentatively opened the gate. _I didn't think I would either._  Alex was smiling and giggling by the time he made his way to Gerard, and tackled him in a bear hug. Gerard, who wasn't expecting that at all, stiffened, then patted the boy on the back, mumbling out a greeting. Gerard could now feel the pool water dampening his clothes. _Thanks._ Alex released him, and backed away a bit, pointing at the bar.

     "You can go get a drink, or hang out in the pool." He gestured to said pool. "Or you could go dance or pla-" 

     "Alex! Come back in!" Alex was cut off by a female voice, and when Gerard looked over, he recognized the blonde girl from the picture, only now she looked so out of it he could hardly tell. The girl had a loopy smile on her face, and she seemed to be in a bra and underwear, unlike Alex in his swim trunks. When Gerard realized this, his eyes widened slightly, for his lack of experience with girls. Not that he'd _never_ been with a girl, just not much or often. He surveyed the pool and realized that almost all of them were clad in undergarments as well, except for a couple who were skinny dipping. Gerard quickly averted his eyes and tried to hide his certain blush. Alex grinned and ran towards the pool, jumping high and doing a cannonball. Gerard wasn't offended by the sudden abandonment, because he could tell that Alex was completely drunk, like the girl. 

     Gerard walked towards the bar, because, while he was here he might as well drink free alcohol. Plus, he was nervous to see Frank again. While he filled a Solo cup with beer from a keg, Gerard considered what he might say, because, _'Hi, I'm mildly stalking you and that's the only reason I'm at this party right now. Let's talk, because I'm really fucking curious about you and why the fuck you act so nice but also hurt people,'_  didn't seem to be a great conversation starter. Instead, he decided to fill another cup, and started walking slowly. He scanned the backyard for Frank, and when he did spot him, Frank was sitting at the same table as in the picture. He was waving around what seemed to be a credit card, which Gerard found odd, and there were three girls crowding him.

     A blonde girl stood next to him, leaning against the side of the house that the table sat next to. Another girl, a brunette, sat in a chair facing Frank, giggling animatedly. Gerard could see another head of straight brown hair in a chair facing the wall, but she faced her body towards Frank, and she was quite obviously making an effort to stick her chest out. All of the girls were dressed in little clothing, two in short shorts and crop tops, and the brunette facing Frank in a tight black dress. Gerard thought, for a second, that they must be cold in the chill of the late September night, but shook it off, realizing he had been standing there for a minute or two, and walked to the table. 

     Standing in front of Frank, Gerard suddenly understood what the credit card was for. Cocaine. A substance that he and his friends had never touched, despite their frequent use of weed. Gerard had wondered sometimes, but was too worried about the repercussions. Weed had never killed anyone. Cocaine was a killer, but its users never could know when. Frank still hadn't noticed the man, and Gerard regarded him warily with the new knowledge of such drug use before speaking. He cleared his throat loudly, and Frank looked up, surprised.

     "Hi! Um," Gerard paused, holding out the second cup, "here."

     Frank smiled widely, taking the beer from Gerard's hand. He said, "Gerard Way! _Ci vieni spesso qui_?"

     Gerard's eyebrows knit in confusion, but Frank just chuckled and waved dismissively. Then he waved again, this time regarding the women, an obvious motion for them to get away. None of them moved for a moment, sharing looks between each other and at Gerard, but left anyway. They didn't say anything as they went, but gave Gerard dirty looks. Frank pat the seat next to him, saying, "Sit, sit. I didn't know you knew Alex?"

     Gerard sat down before speaking. "He's in my math class," Gerard replied, surprised at himself for not stuttering, "How do you know him?"

     Frank giggled. Gerard could tell he was high. "I don't really," he explained with a wide grin, "I heard about this party and met him on my way in!"

     Gerard was surprised that anyone would let a stranger into their backyard, whether for a party or not, but he nodded anyway. Frank motioned towards Gerard's shirt, which happening to be a Metallica tee. Gerard hadn't even taken note of the band on the shirt, having thrown it on in the dark while still half asleep.

     "Good taste in music, Way!" Frank was smiling widely, and Gerard found it contagious. He grinned at the boy.

     "You listen to them?" He asked.

     Frank looked at him incredulously, saying, "Fuck yeah, I can't deal with that popular music. It sounds like fucking shit!" 

     Gerard nodded. "I'll drink to that," he said, raising the plastic cup. Frank held up his own cup, before chugging the whole thing. He dropped the now empty plastic container on the table, and picked up a ten dollar bill that had been lying on the table. 

     "You look like you could loosen up a bit!" Frank chuckled, arranging a line with the credit card, towards Gerard. "Why don't you do a line or two?"

     Gerard started at him, then at the bill that Frank was offering. He frowned, saying, "No thanks, I'm good!" He hadn't meant it, but as the words fell from Gerard's mouth, he noticed the undeniable Captain Pierce-esque sarcastic tone.

     Frank giggled, completely unaware of how uncomfortable Gerard was. "More for me, then!" He continued to fix the coke into new lines, and started to roll the bill again.

     "Woah, hold on," Gerard cautioned, resting his hands on Frank's to make him pause. Frank looked at the man with a confused daze, his eyebrows scrunching together. "You... Seem pretty high already... Maybe you should be getting home and to bed instead," Gerard continued earnestly, looking at Frank with concern. They didn't know each other very well, but Gerard had become anxious over certain drugs after a million long lectures from his mom, and he didn't want the guy to die, no matter what he had done before. Especially if Gerard could possibly stop it. That was how Gerard was, and he couldn't help it. He hated to see suffering, because he knew he couldn't help everyone who needed help. He probably got it from his mother, who he had witnessed offering kindness and provisions to the homeless and needy, when others could just walk right by. Gerard's mom had a big heart, even after suffering her own heartbreaks many times, partly because she was simply a truly kind person, and partly because her beautiful sons were in her life and were always there to stand by her and be her best friends. Gerard loved her for her sweet soul and generous spirit, but sometimes he wished she hasn't imparted so much of the same upon him, so he could turn away and go about his life like other people could, without guilt.

     Frank pushed Gerard's hands away. "Come on, don't be such a pussy!" He yelled, bluntly disregarding the man's concerns. Gerard sighed as Frank snorted a line, pulling back with a smile, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. Gerard guessed that it wasn't really his place to meddle, but this seemed really unhealthy, and he wanted to help Frank. It's not like they were best friends or anything, but he always wanted to help people, at any chance he got. And if that included a possible psychopath who was possibly bipolar, then so be it. But Gerard, in all his awkwardness, wasn't quite sure how to go about that. 

     "Frank..." Gerard started, and the shorter guy opened his eyes, glancing at Gerard. He still had a wide grin on his face, and Gerard worried his face might get stuck like that. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you should be doing that. I know we like, just met today and shit, but you could _die_ from cocaine, dude."

     The man began laughing uncontrollably again. He just found _e_ _verything_ fucking hilarious, didn't he? "I'm fine!" He spoke, but his words were more slurred than before, and he looked pale. "I could die at any moment without drugs!" He continued, "There are so many people who could want to walk into this party and just shoot me in the head!" He put his fingers to his head, mocking a gun, even with a little sound effect. He giggled again. "People want to kill me, but coke? Coke is my friend." 

     "Who wants to kill you?" Gerard muttered in shock, but Frank's attention had already moved on. He was giggling again, and moved his hand up to touch Gerard's hair. 

     "You're like... a puppy," Frank slurred, running his fingers through the other man's greasy hair. He had forgotten to shower the night before and now regretted it. Gerard grabbed Frank's wrist.

     "Frank? I think it's time to get you home now. Where do you live?" Gerard asked cautiously. He figured he could at least call a cab for the guy. 

     "I live..." Frank paused, thinking hard, "Oh! At my house," Frank informed him proudly. This earned a groan in reply. 

     "No, Frank, what's your address?" Gerard was still holding one of Frank's wrists, and Frank used his other hand to poke at Gerard's shirt. 

      "Woah!" He yelled, looking bewildered at the logo on the shirt, "I know that band!" He giggled. Gerard liked Frank's laugh. He really did. He honestly found it amusing. But at the moment, he just wanted to make sure that he got home okay. Giving up on getting Frank to tell him his address, he decided to stay with him until he was at least a little more sober. He shifted so he was holding on to Frank's hands, then stood, pulling the short man with him. 

     "Hey, let's go inside, okay?" Gerard used the soothing voice his mom used whenever he or Mikey were upset. When they stood up, Frank surprised Gerard by leaning on him heavily. Gerard had to catch the guy around his shoulders to stop him from falling, and Frank just laughed. Gerard rolled his eyes and moved to get a better grip on Frank, who was small, but surprisingly heavy. He recalled something he read about muscle weighing more than fat, and figured that must be why. As the two made their way into the house, Frank being more dragged than walking himself, Gerard noticed that there were more people at the party than before. There were many people inside now, coming in from the pool and donning towels and blankets to try to stop their shivering. Through the backdoor was the kitchen, and there were party goers there and in the living room next to it. They were the only rooms with lights on, and Gerard found as he crossed through the living room that there was an adjoining family/game room. The lights were off and when he spotted the light switch, he found it had tape over it– effective prevention from drunk college kids. Gerard decided to keep the light off and moved over to a couch with its back to a wide window. He dropped the smaller man down, who laughed loudly as he bounced a little. 

     "Why don't you get some rest now?" Gerard asked in his best mom voice, sitting on the very end of the couch. Frank smiled and put his feet in the other man's lap, hugging a pillow under his head. 

     "I don't want to sleep, man, I want to go do something!" Frank announced loudly, "We should go outside!"

     "Where outside?" Gerard's mom voice turned more into a confused one.

     "I dunno, a fucking park or something!" Frank seemed energetic now, and had taken his hands from under the pillow. Instead, he waved them above his head and cracked his tattooed knuckles repeatedly. _A park,_ Gerard thought, _why the fuck would I go to a park this late at night, with some guy I hardly know, who happens to be high as hell?_

     Gerard sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes. "How about no?" As much as he wanted to help Frank with his cocaine filled state, he was tired, and it was cold out. He'd rather just stay inside and make sure the guy didn't accidentally kill himself or something until he could focus enough to remember where he lived. But Frank had other ideas, and being the persistent little shit he was, he got up, forcing Gerard to groan and follow him out of the room.

     Frank was energetic and shaky, nearly moving too fast for his new babysitter to keep up. He went out through the back door, even though both men could see the front door clearly closer, in the foyer right next to the living room. Frank had been distracted by various little things as he went, like the girl wearing flashy jewelry around her wrist as she gesticulated largely while recounting a story animatedly to her friends that were just ad drunk as her. He had begun to walk toward her in his fascination when Gerard caught up with him completely, guiding him away with a hand on Frank's elbow.

     "I know, I know," he muttered, shaking Gerard's hand off and darting forward again. Which of course earned a groan from Gerard, who quickened his pace to keep the other man in sight.

     "There is no way in Hell I'm running for this idiot," he gritted out as he pushed past a jock wearing a fraternity sweatshirt and chugging beers while the group in front of him cheered loudly. _Damn kids,_  Gerard complained mentally, _don't they know they're just gonna get alcohol poisoning or at least a bad hangover?_ He could feel the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights and stress, and he felt at _least_ eighty years old. He couldn't believe he was the same age as some of these dumbasses.

     When his mind refocused, Gerard found himself approaching Frank, who was talking to Alex about some movie and dramatically spoiling the end, complete with the acting.

     "...And _then_ , the British lady was like," he adopted an English accent, "'You bitch! I'll fuckin' kill ya! I'll pour boiling tea down ya trousers!'" Frank's voice returned to normal for a second before doing his rendition of a monster with a British accent, 'and then the monster was like, 'Oh my, I'm so sorry about that ma'am please don't hurt me, I'll just stay in the basement now; sorry for the ruckus!' so then everything went back to normal!" 

     Alex, fully entranced, gasped at Frank's retelling. "Just like that?" He questioned, "Poof! No more bad guy?"

     "Well–"

     "I think we were going, Frank?" Gerard cut him off before he could go back to his bad impressions. Alex made a disappointed noise, having been hopeful to hear more. Gerard continued, "Thank you for having us; it was a, um, great party."

     Frank grinned wildly, doing one of the fist bump/bro hug things with the other kid and said, " _Arrivederci_!" Complete with wink and finger guns. 

     Gerard was fazed by the display, but Frank was already hightailing his short ass out of there. Waving goodbye to Alex, the man speed walked to catch up and met Frank on the sidewalk. They covered a few blocks, Frank slightly ahead and blabbering on about who knows what, while Gerard hummed at random intervals and reached out worriedly every time Frank's footing failed him and he stumbled. Amazingly, he always seemed to bounce back before he actually fell. He was also noticeably shaking and fidgeting. Gerard watched his tattooed hands, trying for the life of him to figure out why on Earth the shaking seemed so familiar. He had decided to forget it and took a deep breath, looking up to survey their surroundings when he suddenly remembered exactly what he had been trying to recall. He had been walking on that very block with Mikey and his mom, aged around ten, when they had encountered a homeless man. Thin to the bone and holding out a worn tin can, he was twitching and sniffling as he begged for spare change. As the family approached him, Gerard tugged his mom's sleeve, regarding the poor man warily.

     "What's wrong with him?" He wanted to know. Mikey did too, but he just leaned in close and held tight onto his big brother's hand. 

     "Nothing is _wrong_ with him, honey," she whispered back, "he just came to have a hard life. Now come on." 

     She pulled her young sons along, positioning them slightly behind her, and offered her hand to the guy. "Let's get you some warm food, okay?" She asked in a warm voice. She was met with a genuine smile and watery eyes. Donna led him into a small restaurant on the corner of the block and ordered him a full meal, making small talk with him and grinning kindly at him. She encouraged her boys to talk to the man, as well. Donna was truly a good person, despite all the hardship she'd seen through her life. She always wanted to help people, whether it be like this, or volunteering for Church sponsored events and programs, or everyday at the children's hospital where she worked as a nurse. All the while, the man continued to twitch often, and Gerard never found out why. Until now, that is. Puzzle pieces started slotting together, fitting perfectly, after all these years. The poor man was a coke addict, and Gerard's mom knew. That's why she didn't just give him money and walk away– she knew he'd just about sell his soul for his next fix. And here was Frank, casually doing lines at parties like it was nothing at all. Twitching in the same way as the poor homeless man the Ways had encountered. It filled Gerard with sadness and anger at the same time. How could Frank be so casual about the drug? When it could ruin lives? When people could get hooked and hold drugs as a higher priority than food, and their dealer as a higher priority than their families? But, at the same time, Gerard was worried for Frank, because maybe he was already hooked. Already spiraling. There was no way Gerard could know yet, the two had only met this morning, for fuck's sake!

     " _Marrone_!" Frank groaned as they collided. He had stopped while Gerard kept walking. The two had arrived at a park that Gerard's mother used to take him and Mikey to often when they were kids. Right down the street from their apartment. He checked his phone for the time– 3:54 AM. Frank fell into one of the rickety swing seat and pushed himself off, pumping his legs to go higher. Gerard joined him, sitting on the other one, swaying only slightly. 

     After a few minutes of silence, save for the creaking chains, Frank let his swing slow to a sway like Gerard. "Fuck, that made me dizzy," he complained, leaning his head on the chain connected to one side of his seat. Gerard chuckled a little under his breath. _Tough guy_.

     "You know," Frank started, glancing sideways at Gerard, "I have the money for all those designer drugs and shit, but I really don't trust them." 

      _Ugh,_  Gerard groaned mentally, _Rich and powerful daddy who lets his kids get away with shit because he has the money to pay for fancy lawyers._

     Gerard had no fucking clue. Seriously.

     "I bought some once but they made me sick." 

     Gerard hummed in reply. Frank lit up a cigarette, then offered one to Gerard, who of course accepted it.

     "Of course, that might just be my shitty immune system, but you have no idea what the fuck these dealers cut shit with. The _muddas_ selling 'high end' drugs are greedy bastards. Really, they'll do anything for a couple extra bucks." Frank ranted, looking into the distance, at the skyline.

     "And then I watched iZombie and that didn't help at all!" Frank cried, bumping his seat into Gerard's. The other man laughed earnestly at this, and the two ended up in hysterics. Frank, on drugs; Gerard, exhaustion. Frank tossed his cigarette on the ground. 

     "Fuck, I'm really tired," he groaned, eyes trained again on the tops of the buildings. Gerard reached his foot over to grind out the glowing cigarette butt on the wood chips. He tried to follow Frank's line of sight, but saw nothing worth taking note of. It was totally dark by then; the city lit by the street lamps that worked, the many many cars, traffic lights, and windows. Honks and shouts from drivers, the loud talking of the teenagers and drunks walking the streets, police sirens, and music could be heard as well. Maybe not the prettiest place, but neither of the grown men sitting on those swings would have traded it for the world at that moment. It was home for both of them, even if in very different ways. For all Gerard knew, maybe Frank _was_ a dangerous person. Maybe he was the guy he first encountered in the alley that morning. Maybe he was cruel and brutal; truly ruthless. But he seemed to have done a complete 180°, if not a fucked up 180°. He was nicer, friendlier, than their first crucial encounter, but also seemingly a compete train wreck.

     And to Frank, Gerard could just maybe be the kind of nobody who would turn into a rat the second things went south. Maybe Frank's suspicions were on track, and Gerard  _was_ following him. Maybe he was untrustworthy, or yellow. Maybe he couldn't handle being near Frank, for all it could cost him. Frank was still coming down from his high, but he was sober enough at that point to realize he had probably fucked up a little, talking to this guy so much. 

     The skyline paid no mind though, and the bustle continued. New Jersey certainly didn't give a shit or stop running the second two idiots who could be protagonists to a Lifetime movie started pondering each other's integrities. Blocked out by the high and proud buildings, the sun rose red on the Atlantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time but I've been having problems which I typed up but they got erased and it's fine because I sounded like a pussy anyway. 
> 
> but!!!!!! I am now open to having a cowriter, so if you're interested please message me and include a sample of your work or a link to a previous story here, on Instagram (@jerseyspells), or twitter (xothemonster)!! Although I'm not exactly picky, I'd love to have someone on this story who is also Italian, and/or lives in New Jersey. And at least, I hope, has seen a better mafia movie than the Mobsters movie with Christian Slater. (According to my mom, my Nonno had known all those mobsters in real life, and he also wanted to beat up the actors in that movie for their horrible accents. (seriously, that one capo sounded German!))  
> Also, feel free *wink wink* to make art for this story because I know you fuckers are talented!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Buonanotte (it's 10:40 pm for me right now)!


	4. Goombye

This story is shit.

I have disrespected people I care about. Big sorry to La Cosa Nostra. I'm a disgrace, I know.

I crawled out of this stinking cesspool that was my emo phase. Yikes.

Part of the reason that I was able to do this was that all these "musicians" showed their true colors in light of the election last year.

I don't run with cop killers.

fuck this shit and goombye– I'll see you all in Hell.


End file.
